Where My Demon Hides (Supernatural Short Story)
by SandsWinchester
Summary: "Imagine Sam asking for your help to find Demon!Dean." The reader and Dean Winchester were in a relationship but then her world collapsed when Metatron stabbed Dean, subsequently killing him (In Season 9). At least that's what she thought. Nothing could have prepared the reader for what really happened. Dean x Reader
1. Flashbacks

The wind hustled through my hair as I stood above the grave of Angela Cauldwell. In the dead of night, I was the only soul left in the cemetery, which was of course a good thing. Grave desecration was a crime, a serious disgrace to the dead and also a very usual occurrence in the life of a hunter. It was best done in solitude. I watched the flames engulf her bones. "Rest in peace," I whispered to no one in particular. I mean it wasn't like anyone could hear me. The cemetery was deserted and Angela was already long gone.

The thickening silence was suddenly disrupted with the shrill sound of my ringtone. I had half the mind to ignore it. I'd been doing that a lot lately. All I wanted was to be left to my own devices. I hunted on my own and all I had to deal with was my lonely self. That was just how I had come to like it. This had not always been the case though. There was a time when I had a home – the closest to a home a hunter could come to have in our line of work – in a 'hole' somewhere in Kansas. There was a time when I never had to worry about backup because I had the two best hunters on this side of the ocean by my side. There was a time when I never had to be alone because I always woke up to the warmth of a gorgeous green eyed man every single morning. Not anymore.

I willfully broke off that painful train of thought and fished out the phone from my jean pocket. I stared at the name on my screen for a while, debating whether or not to pick up. I didn't need this. I didn't need him to remind me over and over. This was like salt in an open wound that I've come to think would never heal. It's been months and I still couldn't wrap my head around to be okay about any of it.

With a sense of foreboding and resignation, I answered his call. "Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Y/N. You know I never would have called unless I had an alternative," he told me. I knew he was right. When I left the bunker with him weeping for his dead brother, I had told him to lose my number. Evidently, he hadn't.

"Yeah, I know, Sam. So why _did _you call?"

"It's about Dean."

My heart felt like it stopped.

_[Flashback]_

_"Dean! DEAN!" I screamed clutching his worn plaid shirt. His worn, bloodstained plaid shirt. Oh, God! There was so much blood. His blood._

_"He's gone, Y/N," Sam uttered solemnly._

_"No!" I yelled, glaring at him. "Don't you _dare _say that!" _

_I turned back to Dean, wiping away some dried up blood on his cheek. "Wake up, damn it," I whispered. The tears were streaming down my face. I could feel their wetness on my cheeks, but I didn't care. All of a sudden, I didn't feel like I could care about anything in the world. He wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing. He _was_ gone._

_Dean Winchester was dead._

_[End of Flashback]_

"Y/N, you there?" Sam's voice brought me back from the unwanted trip down memory lane. Just the mentioning of his name was enough to trigger the flashbacks.

"Yeah, I'm here," I reassured him. "What about Dean?"

"I found him."

"What do you mean you _found_ him?"

"He's alive, Y/N."

"Samuel Winchester! Don't you mess with me," I yelled, my voice ringing louder in the silence. "I don't know what kind of cruel game you're playing but I'm hanging up."

"Would I ever joke about this?" He asked. He was right. I knew that he wouldn't but I couldn't understand for the life of me what he was getting at. I had held Dean's dead lifeless body in my very hands. I had felt his unmoving chest, and listened to his heart that didn't make a beat. "He's not dead. Not exactly," Sam continued. "He's a demon, Y/N."

My grip on the cell phone tightened involuntarily. "Come again?"

"Just come to the bunker ASAP. I'll explain everything," he sighed. He sounded so very tired. "I need your help, Y/N. You know I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need it."

I nodded, and then realizing he couldn't exactly see it through the phone, I said, "Yeah, I'll be there."

[Lapse in time]

"You need to brace yourself for what you're about to see," Sam told me before the entrance to the bunker's very own dungeon. "It is Dean, but it's not him."

I nodded. Sam had explained everything. He told me about how the Mark had brought Dean back to life as a demon. He told me of Crowley's role in all of it. He told me that there was a chance for us to cure him and maybe, just maybe to bring him back.

"Are you ready?" he asked me. Could you ever be ready for something like this? Could you be ready to see the love of your life, whose death you mourned for months and months, brought back to life as a heartless demon? I didn't think so.

I nodded anyway. Here's the thing though. Nothing, and I mean _nothing_, could have ever prepared me for what awaited in the cold dark dungeon.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," he said with a feral smirk on his beautiful face. It sounded like him but at the same time it didn't. "Are you here to _save_ me, _love_?" he hurled the endearment like it was an epithet…and his eyes flashed.

His beautiful green eyes I used to drown in, they weren't green anymore. They were as black as sin.


	2. Bound and Gagged

"So what's the plan again?" I asked Sam as I watched him fill a syringe of the blood he had gotten blessed through a priest. I wasn't the only one watching him either. Demon Dean watched too. He seemed nonchalant on the outside, but I knew Dean. He _was _observing Sam's actions intently like a hawk.

"Sam here has it in his mind to _cure_ me," he said smiling that feral smile of his I was already beginning to hate. Then his eyes honed in on Sam. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't _want _to be cured?"

Sam went right on ignoring him like he had since the moment we stepped into the dungeon. He looked so tired and defeated except for that determined gleam in his eyes that spoke of how he'd do everything that needed to be done to save his big brother. He took the syringe and punctured the needle into right where the Mark of Cain lay on Dean's arm. As he fed the blood to the system, I could almost see the veins pop and bubble under Dean's skin. His subsequent scream was purely guttural and it echoed against the cold walls of the dungeon.

"I know you think you're curing me," Dean gasped out. "For all we know, you could be _killing_ me."

Funny how that was the exact same thought in my head. The process seemed to be hurting Dean way more than it could be curing him. Was this _supposed _to be this hard, this torturous? Then again we were curing his soul from its demonic blackness. I don't think _anything_ about that was ever meant to be easy. Frankly, at this point, I didn't know _what _to think! The man I loved and mourned the death of was sitting before me alive and kicking. There should be no logical explanation for that. The righteous man who dedicated his whole life to fight evil was now the very thing he hunted. There was no plausible explanation for that either. The man who had promised me his love for however long the hunter's version of eternity lasted now watched me as if he couldn't give a damn about me. So yes, I didn't know what to think right now about anything.

"Please, Dean," I pleaded. "Let Sam do what he is doing. Let him cure you. I need you to come back." I stared into his eyes that were for this moment the very green I remembered. "Come back to me."

He stared at me, unblinking. I was almost starting to think that maybe, just maybe I was getting through to him. Maybe I could reach into some part of his humanity even if I had to delve to the very depth of his blackened soul. Yet just when I thought I was making some kind of progress, he launched at me growling. The anti-demonic cuffs held him in place but I jumped back with a horrified gasp just the same. I'm sure the fear that was now consuming me was reflected evidently in my eyes. He laughed, and perhaps involuntarily his eyes turned black once more. He laughed with pure evil joy. He enjoyed my fear, I realized. He enjoyed being the reason for it.

Tears pooled in my eyes. "This isn't you, Dean," my voice broke, and they spilled over to trail down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my palm. "This monster isn't you," I insisted.

"Oh, it's me alright," he smirked at me. "I'm going to get out of this little contraption of yours and when I do, I will show just how much of me is in here, _sweetheart_," he said with a sensual gleam in his eyes. I didn't know whether to be aroused or disgusted. It was my Dean, but it wasn't him. It shamed me to admit it but I couldn't lie to myself. Demon or not, Dean's word did spark a fire in me. I chose to blame it on the months and months of celibacy I punished myself with after his 'death.' Then again, I could never resist Dean Winchester…even if I was supposed to be repulsed by him right now.

I felt Sam gently lay a hand on my shoulder. Dean watched that move with what seemed like a possessive gleam in his eyes, or perhaps that was just my wishful thinking. Maybe I desperately wanted to believe that Dean still felt something when it came to me. What a pitiful creature I was…

I followed Sam out of the dungeon. It took everything in me to not turn back or to fall down and weep when I heard Dean say to my back, "Don't worry, _sweetheart_. I'd do you right like all the whores I did on my way here." Sam locked the door, shutting him and his hateful laughter in.

I involuntarily wrapped my arms around myself. "Are you okay, Y/N?" Sam asked leaning in. I nodded despite how my body was shaking with shock. He reached out and hugged me, his tall body easily enveloping my short tiny one. He always _did _know when I was lying. "Listen," he said in the most comforting voice I'd ever heard him use. "It's all going to be over soon. We'll cure him and he'd be back."

I pulled back just enough to look up to his face. There were deep set shadows beneath his eyes. He looked pale and tired, himself. I felt a deep sadness about what this boy had to go through in the past few months, alone and hunting down a demon brother that didn't want to be found. "Who are really you trying to convince, Sam? Me or yourself?" I asked managing to smile just a bit.

Instead of replying, he smiled and let me go. "I need to go pick up some more blood. I won't be long. Will you be alright staying here for a bit?"

I nodded my agreement. "Yeah. I'll be alright."

He picked up the keys to the Impala from its usual place, and walked out. Then he turned around to face me once more. "I know you think some part of him is still in there, Y/N, but there isn't. Not exactly. Please don't go in there. It is _not _him. Not anymore. Promise me you'll stay in your room," he said.

I didn't think I could survive being alone with Dean in the dungeon even if I wanted to, and trust me, I did _not _want to. I didn't need his heartless, careless words cutting me to shreds. I really didn't need that right now. "I promise," I told Sam without a hesitation and with that, he was gone.

I walked into my room of the bunker and closed the door behind me. It wasn't just my room though. I traced my hand across one of the daggers hung up on the pristine walls. This was the room I shared with Dean when I was still here and he was still alive. Our own little sanctuary from the rest of the world.

I lied down on the bed, and silently smiled to myself, feeling the mattress with my palm. "Memory foam. It remembers me," I giggled to myself, repeating Dean's words when he first brought this mattress into the bunker. He had been so excited that day and I remembered feeling both sad and happy for him at the same time. This was the first place he had called 'home' in practically forever. This was the first place we'd made love.

I closed my eyes with a groan. Clearly my physical and emotional exhaustion was catching up to me. Just laying my head down on the familiar pillow, surrounded by Dean's familiar scent was enough to knock me out.

I hadn't been sleeping that long when I heard the door to the room open with a soft thud. Dean was probably coming back home from a hunt. I smiled, not even bothering to open my eyes. "Come to bed, Dean," I whispered. In my sleepy state, enveloped by the familiar feel of my surroundings I didn't really remember where I was for I was stuck in between a place of memory and reality.

"Don't mind if I do," I heard him say.

A part of me knew that something was not right. That part of me jolted me awake with a gasp to find Dean standing in the middle of the room, just a few steps away from the bed. I took in his maroon shirt and over-grown hair. How was he even here? I looked at his wrists to find he had somehow broken off the anti-demonic cuffs and all other bindings that kept him in place in the dungeon.

As if he read my mind, he said, "You can blame Sam for that. The more the cure worked, less effective your little contraption was." I pressed myself against the headboard. "So Sam actually left little Y/N alone with the demon. How careless of him," Dean continued.

"Oh! He didn't leave, Dean," I lied. "He's probably right behind you with the demon knife."

He laughed in my face. "Points for effort, but you always were a terrible liar, Y/N." He stepped closer, running a hand through his tousled hair messing it up even more. It should be illegal for someone to look this attractive.

His eyes glinted green and the playful smirk that always played on his lips was so familiar to me. He looked so much like how he used to be with me before everything went wrong that I forgot to be afraid of him. I forgot that this was not my Dean. I forgot that he was a demon. I stepped towards him defiantly. "What do you want?" I glared.

"Who? Me?" He glanced at me casually. "Oh I told you, _sweetheart_," he continued bridging the gap between us. His eyes dropped to the top of my chest, and the smirk became even more evident. "I'm going to show you how much of me is still here." It was a promise. It was a threat.

Then his hand caught my face and his head dipped to capture my lips in a hot, grueling kiss of both pain and pleasure.


	3. In Control

His lips pressed on to mine, chapped, slightly bruising. The feel of him, the familiarity of everything that was Dean got into my head. I was shaking as I twined my hand around his neck, grabbing him, kissing him back feverishly. He was no longer dead but he was right here with me, his body pressed against me. He looked the same. He smelled the same – of leather and a faint hint of whiskey. He _felt _exactly the same, and whatever doubts I had were dwindling fast.

His lips never left mine when he pushed me against the wall, and his knee found its way between my thighs. I was trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place, the hard place being Dean's very evident arousal. He pushed against me letting me feel just how much he wanted me.

My control, or whatever that resembled it was waning. I pushed him back, breaking his hold easily simply because I had caught him by surprise. I was feeling breathless, and he looked confused. He looked confused and hungry – hungry for me.

Soon enough, I had him on the bed, and I was on top of him, just where I wanted to be. This was our thing. I always had to be in control when we made love and he always let me. Not this time though. The moment I felt triumphant of being on top, he tumbled me so that I lay beneath him.

"Tsk. Tsk. Always wanting the upper hand aren't you, sweetheart?" His eyes bore into mine. He was so close that I could see the tiny golden flecks in them. I could almost count the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose. In a swift move, he pulled my hands above my head. They were caught in one of his, while the other hand slowly but firmly held on to my waist. "Not this time though," he whispered, the hungry look never leaving his eyes, and he ripped off my shirt.

I stared as the buttons flew off, and before I could voice my outrage, he gave me something to be outraged about. His lips found their way to my neck and sucked on _just _the right place that made me go wild. He was brutal in his dominance over me. He wanted me to know the difference.

This was _not _lovemaking. This was pure unadulterated _sex – _hot, wild, and raunchy sex.

"Oh," I gasped, and it swiftly turned to a moan when his lips enveloped my breast, drowning me in sensation after sensation. "Dean…" I moaned not even bothering to wonder how he had rid me of my bra without me even knowing it. He let go of my hands to unbuckle my jeans in swift movement and I pushed him, trying to get his shirt off.

"Don't make me tie you up," he growled, pushing me back to the bed. Then watching me as I watched him, he took off the maroon shirt. His arms flexed as he moved to take off the black undershirt and for the life of me, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was beautiful, sculpted and toned through nothing more than the vigorous life of a hunter. Automatically, without any coherent thought my eyes honed in on the tiny scars left behind by battles fought ages ago. This man had survived _so_ much, and he survived death to be right here. I never thought I'd see him again, that I'd lost him forever and yet he was _here_ and the emotions that came with that realization choked me up.

"Look at _me_," he grunted, and I did to find him beautifully bare-chested and gloriously naked above me.

"I am," I said, pulling him down towards me. He attacked my lips with a feverish hunger and I didn't mind. I didn't mind the least. I ran my hand through his silky overgrown hair and pulled him closer even though we were already as close as any two people could physically be.

My nails raked his bare back as he found his way in me, making me gasp and moan in ecstasy. Sex with Dean Winchester was always good but this…this surpassed everything. It was raw and out of this world. He touched me in places I didn't even know I wanted to be touched. The urgency that radiated from him, his unhidden hunger for my body fueled me to the peak faster than ever.

My eyes closed involuntarily as my back arched trying to capture every bit of heaven this man was giving me in the most blissful race to satisfaction. "Y/N," he growled. "_Look _at _me._" As the last vibrations shook my core, his rhythm was speeding up even more, and I glanced up to find him staring into me, his gaze completely black.

I gasped, as the haze of satisfaction slowly gave away to apprehension. His hand twirled with my hair, staying me in place as he reached completion, growling. The sound reverberated through the room, and I closed my eyes. This was _not _my Dean. What in the world have I done?

I felt the weight lift from me, and I slowly opened my eyes to find him already dressed. For some reason, that hurt even more. It felt as if the intimacy we had found just moments before was already gone and all of a sudden, there was an unbridgeable distance between us. I felt weak and completely vulnerable. While he was so easily closed off to me, I was completely naked before him. Literally.

He smiled to himself as he looked down at me. "I was right," he murmured, his voice gruffer than it was before. "You still _are _the best lay I've ever had." It sounded like a compliment but hurt like a knife in my heart. Best _lay?_ So that's all this was…a simple test to satisfy his little demonic curiosity.

The distinct sound of the front door closing disrupted the breaking of my heart.

He looked up attentively, and the mask of nonchalance was back on. I couldn't read him anymore. "Sammy's home," he said walking towards the door.

I jolted up, clutching the sheet to my chest trying to find some decorum of modesty. "What are you going to do?" I asked my eyes widening with dread.

He turned around with his hand on the knob. "I'm finally going to cut his hair." He opened the door, facing away from me. "What do you think, Y/N?" he asked turning around to face me once more as he stood just outside the room, with the door halfway closed. "I'm going hunt him down and kill him."

The door slammed shut as I stared in disbelief at his feral teeth-baring smile.


	4. Cat and Mouse

The door wouldn't budge. I tried as hard as I could, putting my whole weight against it, but it just wouldn't move. Usually, the door of the bunker needed a key to be locked down this way, so I could only assume Dean used whatever demonic powers he possessed to telekinetically trap me in here. _That bastard!_ I quickly donned my clothes and renewed my efforts at breaking it down in some way. I had to get out. I had to stop him from killing Sam. I _had _to.

I could faintly hear the sound of doors being opened and closed, and I imagined Dean hunting down his own brother, playing a wary game of _cat and mouse_ in the halls of the bunker. "Come on Sammy!" I heard him yell, the sound muffled by the door that barricaded me in. "Wanna hang out with your big brother? Spend some quality time?" He was taunting, trying to draw Sam out. I prayed Sam would not fall for it.

I slammed into the door with my shoulder. I felt a sharp pain but it was worth it for the door finally budged free. With a deep inward sigh, I set out to find Sam, and hoped to God that I _didn't_ find Dean. I wandered through the hallways, listening to the sound of footsteps but failing to figure out where either of them were.

Leaning against the wall, I tried my best to not make a sound or even let out my breath for fear of being heard by the demon on the loose…my boyfriend, Dean Winchester. There was something I _never _thought I'd have to say. The irony and the humor of it all almost had me laughing. Almost.

Suddenly, a door broke down further down the hallway to my left. I could feel my heart speed up. It was far too close for comfort, and I couldn't tell if it was Dean or Sam. I didn't know whether to run towards it or to run as far away from it as I possibly could.

Just as swiftly, the warning lights of the bunker went off, bathing the whole building in a harsh red light. The sirens only made me tense up even more. _There was no way out. Not anymore. The way was completely shut_. I was trapped in the bunker with a hunted Sam and a demon Dean. What in the world was I supposed to do?

"I don't want to leave," I heard Dean yell. "Not till I find you!" The sound seemed to be moving away from where I was and more towards the other corner of the bunker – right where the _Electrical_ room was. It made sense. Sam just turned the alarm on, which could only be done from that room, and Dean in his sole determination to hunt down his brother was clearly headed in that direction.

I couldn't figure out what was going on. Why would Dean leave me alone, and not kill me when he had the perfect chance? Why would he go after his own brother, the one person he'd lived his entire life protecting, when he had left _me _alone? Maybe the Mark of Cain was driven by some unwavering bloodlust for one's own flesh and blood. After all, was that not how Cain himself had damned himself, by killing his own brother, Abel? I suppose, it _did_ make sense in a dark twisted way.

When the alarm went off, most probably shut down by Dean, I had a choice to make. From where I stood, in the middle of the bunker, I had two options left. I could make a run for the exit, or I could run towards the _Electrical _room. I could run, and maybe save myself in time. That was all I wanted to do. I couldn't handle this. I didn't _want _any part of this.

Except, I knew, I had no choice at all. There was no way in hell that I would leave Sam to be murdered by his own brother, demon or not. There was no way I would let Dean damn himself in such a horrific way. With a heavy heart, and a grave sense of foreboding, I turned around, stealthily moving towards where I knew they would be.

"If you come out of that room, I won't have a choice," I heard Sam say, and I imagined him threatening Dean with the demon knife. Even I knew he wouldn't be able to do it. He couldn't and wouldn't kill his brother, and Dean knew it too. That was what gave him the added advantage in this little game of cat and mouse. That was why I feared he would win even before it could begin.

"Sure you will, and I know which one you'll make," Dean shouted back, loud enough for me to hear even from down the hall. His voice sounded hoarse and raspy, but there was an evil edge to it that suggested he was clearly enjoying this way more than he should. I could hear him batter away at a door, and I imagined Sam on the other side of it, still trying desperately to reach to some humanity within Dean – a humanity that was there no more. "But see…here's the thing, I'm lucky," Dean laughed in that humorless evil way I'd come to hate. "Oh hell, I'm blessed, 'cause there's just enough demon in me that killing you ain't no choice at all!"

The door broke down, letting the demon out once more. I couldn't see Dean, and nor could I see Sam. "Come on, Sammy, let's have a beer, talk about it!" Dean shouted. Wherever the younger Winchester was, I hoped he was further and safer than I was, for I could hear Dean get closer with every word. I backed away trying to find my way while trying desperately to not be caught.

"I'm tired of playing," I heard Dean yell, and in that moment it felt like he was everywhere, leaving no room for escape. I tried to convince myself that this was just my fear trapping me in my own mind, giving Dean more credit and power than he truly deserved and possessed.

"I already killed Y/N," Dean lied, hoping to rattle Sam, probably thinking that I was still locked in that room, helpless and pathetic as he left me. "Let's finish this game!"

My back bumped into someone, and I let out an involuntary gasp. I turned around, my heart racing in my chest, to find Sam stare at me with widened eyes. The gladness I felt at seeing him faded as soon as strong hands grabbed me from behind.

"There you are," Dean crooned in my ear, his front pressing against my back, as his arm held me stiff in a stranglehold. Then his eyes focused on his brother. "Y/N's life is in my hands," he said with a meaningful glance at the demon knife Sam held. "Do you _really_ want to risk it, Sammy?"

Sam's face tightened with resolution, and Dean's arm tightened around my neck. "You wouldn't kill her," Sam said hoping to call his bluff, except I didn't think even for one moment that Dean was bluffing in any way. He meant his words. My trapped throat and blocked airway were solid proof of that.

"Dean, please," I gasped.

He leaned in, gently biting my ear. "Please, what? Fuck you again like I did?" he said and I felt a delicious awakening in me when I really shouldn't have. "Sorry, I'm a little busy right now," he chuckled, and I imagined the self-satisfied smirk fixed on his face. _What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N? _I scolded myself. Here I was, trapped and about to be killed but I was still freaking attracted to this monster of a man. At the same time, I felt that the hold had slightly loosened, for I could breathe a bit easier.

Then in one swift move, he tossed me aside, and I crashed on to the floor, bumping my head – _hard_. He moved on towards his brother, his eyes gleaming onyx, and his lips curved in an evil murderous grin. That was the last thing I saw before my world turned to complete darkness.


	5. Hardest Word

**(Dean's POV)**

The cure had worked, and I was back to myself. The Mark was still there, keeping its hold on me as it always had but I was not a demon – not anymore. I remembered everything. All the people I had killed, all the crap I had done, what I did to Sam or tried to do…and what I had done to Y/N – I remembered it all. I wish I didn't. They weren't yet crystal clear but vaguely I could recall it all and I didn't know where to even begin to atone.

When Cas told me that it would take a lot more than me trying to kill Sam with a hammer for my brother to give up on me, I let a sense of relief wash over me. I was afraid to ask of Y/N. I remembered making love to her – no, not love, but I _had _been with her. I remembered the feel of her even through the haze of it all. If I had forced myself on her…Oh God. How was I supposed to live with that?

My internal torment must have been visible on my face for Cas hesitantly said, "Y/N is here, Dean. You should probably talk to her."

"And say what, Cas?" I asked him, feeling the despair fill my soul.

When I turned around, Sam was also leaning against the door frame, warily observing. "Just talk to her, Dean. The rest will come to you," he advised, and though I knew he was right, I was reluctant to take it.

Still, I nodded and found my way to our room, where I knew she would be. I hesitated at the door, just standing there a moment, thinking of what to say. What _could_ you say to the woman you love, after you have hurt her in such a horrible way? What could you ever say? I was supposed to protect her, but I had been the one to harm her in ways from which she might never recover. I wished I could say that it wasn't me, that it was the Mark and the demon it made me be. I _could _say that, but it wasn't the truth. It _had_ been me in some level, some dark twisted part of my soul. There were so many things I could say and yet, in that moment, for the life of me, I couldn't even think of one. 'Sorry' seemed to be the hardest word.

I knocked anyway, and waited for a response that never came. I knocked once more, and in the silence that followed, I let myself into the room we had shared. "Y/N?"

The room was completely empty. Her things were nowhere to be seen. My bed was made, the desk was neatened and everything was in their rightful places. Except for Y/N. She was gone.

I deserved it. There was nothing I deserved more. I had hurt her, violated her. It made perfect sense for her to leave. I wouldn't have wanted to see me ever again either if I had been in her place. Knowing I deserved it should have made the loss easier but it still felt like there was a hole in my heart that would never be filled. I had lost the one thing I had never hoped to lose. I hadn't lost it though, I had driven it away all on my own.

* * *

**(Y/N's POV)**

When I walked back into the room with a pint of ice cream in hand, Dean sat there at the edge of the bed, his head burrowed in his hands, defeated. I slowly placed the ice cream carton on the nearest surface I could find, and walked towards him. "Dean?"

He glanced up at me, completely in shock, as if he'd seen a ghost. "You're still here?" he asked me, seemingly unable to believe his own eyes.

I nodded, unable to figure out why he would be surprised about that. Then it came to me as if a light bulb went on in my head. He had thought I'd left him, because of all the things he'd done and said when he was a demon. "Baby, I'm here. I'm not leaving," I said, kneeling down before him, trying to see into his eyes.

He looked around the room. "All your stuff...they were gone. I thought you'd left."

"I put them back in the drawers," I explained, hoping to comfort him. "I should have left though. Would have served you right, Winchester," I said teasingly, but he wasn't laughing. He wasn't even smiling. He just stared at me solemnly, as if the weight of the world rested on him. I tried to get through to him. "Hey, hey! It wasn't you, Dean."

He grimaced. "You and I both know it was me – some version of me at least." Then his worrying eyes, turned to me, ridden with guilt and remorse. "Did I…Y/N, did I rape you?"

"What?" I exclaimed in shock at what he had thought. "No! No, of course not." He was lost in his own memories, I could see. I took his face in my hands and forced him to look at me. "You didn't rape me, Dean," I told him, trying to reach him with my words, and to make him understand. "You said a lot of hurtful things about me being just a lay but you didn't rape me."

"You're _not_ just a lay, Y/N. I love you," he swore peering into my eyes, his gaze never leaving mine. He took my hands in his and just held them as if he was holding on to his very life. "I love you, baby. I'm so, _so _sorry. I can't even begin to fix all this. I don't know how to…"

"Shhh…" I crooned to him, hugging him, willing him to forget whatever that was tormenting him. Then I slightly pulled away and looked at him. "I could think of ways for you to make this up to me," I said, hoping to introduce some levity into the whole situation.

He simply looked at me questioningly, and I walked to the door. I closed it and locked it behind me. From where I stood, I instructed, "Stand up and take off your clothes, Dean."

The startled look that came over his face was purely adorable. I knew he didn't expect this, and neither did I, but I needed to show him that nothing had changed between us. In a way, I also needed this for myself. After the things he said, and after relinquishing control to him – as hot as it had been – I needed to feel in control once again, to get things back to how they were. Maybe it was payback, or maybe it was just me trying to heal myself – to heal us both.

He hesitated only for a moment before he obeyed. One by one, layer by layer, Dean Winchester stripped in front of me, watching me watch him. When he was down to his boxers, he looked at me expectantly, waiting for the next command. He knew how this played out. We had played this game before. When things had been normal – as normal as it could have ever been for us – we had danced this dance countless times before. At my nod, he dropped the boxers to the ground and stood before me, completely naked, gloriously hard.

"You're already ready for me, aren't you, baby?" I asked, stepping closer. The feeling was intoxicating, to see him bared to me while I was fully clothed in front of him. "Undress me," I told him, unable to bear the distance between us any longer. There had been too many barriers between us. There didn't need to be any now – not anymore.

With trembling fingers, he reached for my shirt. Instead of unbuttoning it all the way, he simply lifted it off my head. In slow deliberate movements, he pulled down my jeans, and removed my bra. I knew why he was being slow. He was giving me time to resist, to say no to him – almost as if he _expected _me to deny him. Denial was the farthest thing on my mind.

It had been so long since I had been with him. The demon him didn't count. It had been so long since I saw the real him, felt him and touched him. When he pulled down my panties, I was already so, _so _wet. "Touch me," I instructed, gazing into his eyes.

His hand hovered over the lips and when he came across how wet I was, an involuntary groan escaped his lips. "Oh, baby…fuck…" he gasped. I shushed him, and his gaze never left mine when one finger, then two, dipped into me. I closed my eyes with a moan, feeling him stretch me. I was still sensitive from the last time, but this was different. This was _Dean _– _my_ Dean.

He played around, gently teasing me with his fingers, and I traced a finger up and down his cock that was insistently making me aware of its presence. "Do you want me to touch you too, Dean?" I asked coyly, very well knowing the answer.

"Fuck…God, _yes,_" he replied, and when I did, he closed his eyes with a groan. I teased him and coaxed a response out of him, making him hot with need, watching him as he lost himself in the sensations and lost myself as he touched me intimately.

Then when he least expected it, I pushed him away and onto the bed. "Lie down," I told him, making my way towards him. "You can't come, Dean. Not until I tell you to. If not, there _will_ be consequences." And I took him in my mouth, making him moan my name in desperation.

I loved watching him, so I did. With every twirl of my tongue around his cock, I watched his face, tightened with arousal and pleasure. It turned me on like nothing else could. When he started bucking against my mouth, I stopped, knowing he was close.

Still watching him, I climbed up on top of him, straddling him. With slow deliberate motions, I let myself down on his manhood, feeling every stretch, and every sensation as it came. He filled me completely, and I sat there, simply looking at him, unmoving. "You're killing me," he groaned, bucking against me once more, urging me to ride him.

I moved so slow, feeling my way around, letting myself get familiar with him in me. I was so hot for him, I knew it wouldn't even take me long, and by the look on his face, it seemed to be the same for him. He reached out to grab my hips, and I let him. "Y/N, let me kiss you, baby. Please," he begged, and I realized in my quest for dominance over him, I hadn't kissed him – not once.

All of a sudden, the feel of his lips on mine was all I could think about. Without stopping or slowing down the movements of my hips, I leaned down to kiss him passionately. His hands ran up and down my back as he kissed me back feverishly, moaning into my mouth. "Take over, Dean," I whispered against his lips, finally ready to give in and it was the only invitation he needed.

In swift movements, he rolled me underneath him, and kissed me once more, even as he thrust into me. "Is this okay? Should I slow down?"

"Fuck, no! I'm so fucking close, Dean!"

Grinning against my neck, and then kissing his way, sucking on that exact right place he knew would drive me crazy, he sped up his thrusts. I came apart in his arms, practically screaming his name, pulling him close by his hair. He came in me, pushing himself as close to me as he physically could, growling and groaning my name.

In the aftermath, he pulled me close and held me against his chest. When our racing hearts calmed down to some semblance of normal, I asked, "What's going to happen now?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully. He looked down at the Mark on his arm. "This thing _has_ to go, but for now, things are okay. I'm going to take this win." He closed his eyes.

"Whatever happens, I'm with you till the end, Dean," I told him, absently drawing patterns on his smooth chest.

"I know," he whispered, and laid a gentle kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry I hurt you, baby. You're the last person I ever want to hurt in anyway. I'm so sorry."

I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him. "Don't. Enough now. You don't have to say sorry anymore, Dean," I told him sadly. "And you didn't hurt me. Not really. You could have – you had enough chances to but you didn't."

He smiled, cupping my face. "I think even when I was a demon, there was some part of me that held you close to me in my own twisted way," he confessed. Then he pulled me down to a lingering kiss.

I closed my eyes and let myself fall asleep by his side. He was right. We couldn't know what the future would hold or what consequences the Mark would have now that he was human once again. But whatever said and done, we had gotten him back. He was here, alive and well, right here in my arms. "I love you, baby," I whispered to his sleeping form, staring at his face resting in peace, free of torment for once. I was going to take this win. I _needed_ this win. We both did.


End file.
